Masquerade
by TellyAddict
Summary: The signs were subtle at first, too subtle for all but the keenest eye. But over subsequent weeks the rest of the team began to realise Reid was keeping something from them. This is my take on the limited "evidence" of Reid's secret so far during season 6
1. Late October

_**But I would rather be alone**_

_**Than pretend that I feel alright**_

_**Arcade Fire - Ready to start**_

Nobody was entirely sure when they had begun to notice.

Thinking back, it had started with the little things, occurrences so small that if they'd each happened as a solitary incident they most likely would have passed unnoticed.

There had been the time Reid had been hanging around Prentiss' desk in the BAU bull pen, to be quickly joined by Morgan and Garcia as they cast not so surreptitious glances towards their Unit Chief's office, waiting for the now departed JJ to emerge.

At first Prentiss hadn't realised the small white objects Reid was scarfing down as if they were about to go out of fashion were actually her antacids, purchased the previous week after the team had been called back to a case part way through a particularly spicy meal at a new local Mexican restaurant.

"Oh, AGAIN with the dairy?" she'd said, more than a hint of exasperation evident in her tone.

"I can't help it, I love dairy," he'd replied, popping another handful of the pills into his mouth as his eyes never left the office window above, silently cursing the blinds obscuring whatever scene was playing out in Hotch's office.

Within twenty minutes they were sat on the jet, the tension palpable during JJ's brief absence. Only Morgan had noticed the apparent discomfort of the youngest member of the team, the others first glancing towards the cramped bathroom to which JJ had retreated and then towards each other.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "What's up kid?" he whispered, noticing Reid's expression quickly neutralise.

"Uh… I didn't, you know, _go_ - before we left, I… kinda forgot." He smiled weakly.

Morgan watched Reid get to his feet and unsteadily make his way towards the rear of the plane, catching Prentiss' eye as they heard the knock on the bathroom door. Seconds later JJ reappeared, the team soon too engrossed in her revelation to notice a pale Reid wiping his mouth as he returned to the seating area.

The next time was more subtle. However, David Rossi noticed. As the Detroit police officer passed comment about those who visited the crime scene needing to have a strong stomach, the microexpression which had darted across Reid's face hadn't escaped the sharp eye of the BAU's veteran.

After Devil's Night had passed, Rossi's vigilance had continued.


	2. Early November

**Many thanks for the reviews - it's nice to know people are reading this! There are two more chapters after this; both are longer and now just need some minor adjustments before publishing. **

"Coffee?" asked Rossi, holding up the glass jug almost full of swirling dark brown liquid for Reid to inspect as if it was an expensive bottle of vintage claret.

Reid shook his head. "Better not," he replied as he rubbed the central area between his ribs, "I've already consumed way too much in the forty three minutes since I arrived."

As Morgan rolled his eyes at Reid's precision as he reached for his cup, Prentiss let out a snort of laughter, hurriedly turning it into a cough when she saw Rossi's expression change.

"No more coffee for the BAU's number one java fiend?" she said, unable to hide her grin any longer. "What's wrong Reid, it's not like you to turn down a steaming cup of caffeine. Are you sick or something?"

"No, I'm not sick," snapped Reid, pulling away from her outstretched hand as Prentiss recoiled in surprise. "Stop treating me like I'm one big joke Emily, you know nothing. Just butt out of my business."

As Reid stormed out of the kitchenette Rossi stepped sideways, obstructing the doorway leading through to the bullpen.

"Leave him, Derek," he said, his voice low as Morgan attempted to follow. "Leave him to calm down."

"What did I say?" Prentiss looked confused. "He usually mainlines coffee; we've joked about it for years. He once said if he could have it IV he'd be first in the queue."

Morgan swept his hand over his forehead, looking past Rossi's shoulder but failing to locate Reid. "What's going on with him?"

"Perhaps he's tired? We've had a couple of heavy cases since Detroit," replied Rossi, his voice flat.

"Would you listen to yourself?" Morgan didn't attempt to hide his frustration. "Who the hell are you trying to convince here? We're goddamn profilers, don't insult our intelligence."

"He was off work last Wednesday," added Prentiss. "Said he was getting signed off by the physical therapist, but I thought that happened months ago."

"What happened months ago?"

The other three agents spun round to see Hotch approaching the doorway.

"Well?" He arched his eyebrows, dark eyes flitting from one face to the next.

Prentiss smiled guiltily. "It's… Reid. He promised he'd make the coffee more often; after all, he drinks most of it. That was in April and we're still waiting for him to start."

Hotch scanned the bullpen, his frown becoming more pronounced. "Where _is_ Reid?"

Rossi winked. "He got caught short; gallons of coffee and a bladder the size of an egg cup isn't the ideal combination."

"This seems to be happening a lot these days; Reid spends more time in the restroom than he does at his desk. When he returns please tell him to come by my office." Hotch's tone was devoid of any emotion as he replenished his cup, adding two spoonfuls of creamer before threading his way back through the desks and up the stairs towards the privacy of his office.

"You gonna let me talk to Reid now?" demanded Morgan.

"Give him some space." Rossi's tone was neutral, giving nothing away.

Morgan leaned against the worktop. "What's Hotch had to say on the matter? You can't tell me he hasn't noticed."

Rossi placed the milk back in the refrigerator. "You know Aaron as well as I do, he's a man of few words."

"Something's wrong, Rossi. The mood swings, always disappearing to the restroom. Do you think…" Prentiss allowed her voice to tail off; the final unspoken words left hanging in the air.

Morgan shook his head. "No, no, no… There's no chance. Trust me, I'd know."

**Meanwhile:**

Reid waited for the dizziness to pass as he sat on the flushed toilet's now closed lid. He wasn't sure exactly what the stressor had been this time, possibly a combination of perceived flak from other members of his team and… well, he didn't want to think about _that._

His trembling hand brought the napkin towards his mouth and wiped. Without thinking he glanced at the white sheet, icy fingers of fear gripping his shoulders as a faint pink stain was now visible, even in the low light.

**More tomorrow! Thanks for reading…**


	3. Mid November

**Wow! I'm pleasantly surprised people like this – thanks once again for your kind words (sounds like a funeral… don't read anything into that, btw). **

**Initially, I wanted to have Hotch watching out for Reid, but I just cannot write our brooding Unit Chief to save my life, hence the distinct lack of him in this fic. I don't know if I fare much better with writing Rossi, but never mind eh?**

**I'm glad someone else noticed Reid's expression during the recent episode in Detroit; as I have to watch online and it's often heavily pixelated I wasn't sure if I was imagining things but the idea works (I hope) for where this is going.**

**Unfortunately I don't have an insider source at CBS, just a warped mind and an overactive imagination! **

**Anyway, that's enough from me. Enjoy?**

"So, what've you got planned for this evening?" Morgan waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Reid. "Will the good doctor have many happy returns when he returns to his love shack for the night?"

Reid shook his head. "Actually, no."

"So you'll be finding that sweet birthday sugar somewhere else?" added Morgan, his wide grin showing two rows of gleaming white teeth. "My man, we'll make a player out of you before you hit that big 3-0 next year…"

"Don't judge me by your own standards, Derek," muttered Reid as he closed the case file he'd been working on and placed it into the _out box_ on his pedantically neat desk. As he got to his feet Reid was surprised to see the other four members of the team approaching his desk, Garcia holding a bunch of brightly coloured helium balloons.

"Happy birthday, sweetcheeks," she cooed as she left a scarlet lip print on his right cheek. "You ready to go?"

"Go?" Reid's confusion was noticeable as he forced his arms into his grey coat. "Go where?"

"You didn't tell him? Shame on you." Garcia's red curls bobbed as she turned to face Morgan. "Don't think I won't make you pay for that later," she added with a lascivious smile.

Reid sighed. "Guys, please enlighten me…"

Garcia winked at Reid as she blew a kiss in his direction, causing a blush to spread across his cheeks. "Oh course, how rude of me to put my own desires before those of our birthday boy," she said, slapping her wrist. "Bad Penelope; I'll have to buy Boy Genius an extra birthday drink for my selfishness."

"Guys, it's good of you to want to take me out, but bars and clubs really aren't my thing. Surely you know that by now?" Reid looked down towards the floor, feeling embarrassed to decline the invitation.

Morgan clapped Reid on the back, catching him unaware and making him jump. "No kid, that's later. First we need to get some food inside you, give that skinny ass plenty of energy for busting those moves and keeping up with all the honeys who'll be lining up to give you some birthday lovin'. Right guys?"

"I'm not hungry," mumbled Reid, stepping away from the rest of his team.

Rossi tilted his head to one side. "We reserved a table at the Shere Khan; everyone knows it's your favourite Indian restaurant."

Reid looked directly at Rossi, unnerving the older agent with the intensity of his stare whilst he spoke slowly and deliberately. "I said… I'm not… hungry."

Hotch folded his arms, looking from one member of his team to the next.

"Aw, come on Reid," Prentiss said pleadingly as she linked arms with him. "You're so easy to order for. Two portions of aloo saag, poppadoms and lamb samosas…"

Reid yanked his arm free. "I said no. It's my birthday and I'll spend it as I want. Now, get out of my face," he shouted, his breath hitching in his throat as he ran past the elevator's steel doors and towards the staircase which led down to the parking garage.

"I assume you reserved a table for seven?" asked Hotch, his expression still neutral.

"Man, JJ's gonna be crushed…" Morgan said with a shake of his head.

_**Forty minutes later:**_

The small apartment was almost in darkness, apart from the soft light emitted by a small lamp on top of one of his many bookcases. It had been years since Reid had attached it to a timer, ensuring he would never return to total suffocating blackness if he had to work late. After locking the dark wooden door behind him, Reid kicked off his Converse and slumped down on the worn brown leather couch, sighing heavily.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, his head cradled in his hands as his mind replayed the evening's events. At least it was Saturday tomorrow; unless a case came in he didn't have to face the others until Monday morning.

_Try explaining __**that**__ little hissy fit. _

_At least I didn't throw up in front of them, just saved that little show for the side of the highway… _

_God only knows what would have happened if you'd eaten all that spicy food… _

_Haven't you noticed the looks they've been shooting in your direction?_

_They know something's wrong, you work with the best profilers in the nation; you just keep on deluding yourself they won't notice…_

It seemed like hours before he got to his feet, moving slowly towards an old fashioned wooden cabinet on the back wall behind the couch. His memory hadn't let him down; despite probably not making the wisest choice he knew it contained an unopened bottle of single malt, Rossi's gift to him the previous Christmas. As he reached the cabinet, his eyes were drawn to the faded photograph he'd carefully placed in a simple silver frame. He picked it up.

Two faces stared back at him. To the left stood a smiling young boy, his mid-brown hair falling over thick metal framed glasses. To the right sat a young man, although the Yankees baseball cap would make it difficult for strangers to ascertain his exact age. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, his pale puffy face carrying a slightly pinched look only noticeable with closer inspection. Between them they held a birthday cake, its white frosting emblazoned with the red numbers 4 and 29 and encircled by thirty three blue candles.

Reid stared at the photo, feeling his face flush as hot tears pricked his eyelids. A slender finger traced the outline of the man's face as he swallowed hard and then whispered:

"Happy birthday, Uncle Daniel…"

**Coming soon to a computer near you – the fourth and final instalment. Thanks for reading…**


	4. Late November

**Thanks again for your nice (what a feeble word!) comments. If you can spare a few seconds I'd be really grateful for feedback on how well - or probably not - I did with the Americanised dialogue and terminology as it's something I was rather conscious of trying to get as correct as possible. See my profile for an explanation of the British English spellings, btw.**

**The medical stuff and locations were Googled – so if it's all wrong blame them (ha!)…**

"Where are we going?" asked Reid, staring at a row of brightly coloured Victorian buildings through the passenger side window of the black SUV. "I thought we were going to the third crime scene?"

Rossi swung the steering wheel to the right. "We are."

Reid turned to face him and scowled. "Bernal Heights is to the south; we're heading north."

"I know, I know… just making a small detour," replied Rossi, his tone nonchalant as the SUV glided to a halt outside Starbucks.

"Here?" exclaimed Reid, staring up and down the colourful tree-lined street. "We're six miles north of where we should be."

Rossi shook his head as he jumped down on to the sidewalk. "Stay put, I'll be back soon."

True to his word Rossi soon reappeared, a paper bag now wedged under his arm and holding two large coffee cups. "Hold these," he instructed, Reid now being too confused to even consider questioning Rossi's motives.

Five minutes later the SUV pulled into the parking lot at East Beach and made its way to the far end, away from the few vehicles parked near the exit.

Rossi looked across at Reid. "I figured we could use some time out. It's been a pretty terrible case."

Reid nodded as he stared through the lightly tinted windshield. "We know why, we now need to know who," he said quietly, as if talking to himself.

"Care to join me for some fresh air?" asked Rossi, pointing to a bench a few paces away from the SUV.

"I guess so," replied Reid with a shrug as he placed their drinks into the cup holders before climbing down from the vehicle and picking up the insulated cups once again.

The two men sat down, watching the waves break against the shoreline whilst the tips of the Golden Gate Bridge hid behind their shroud of low grey cloud. Eventually Rossi broke the silence. "What a magnificent view," he commented as he passed a slice of raspberry swirl pound cake to Reid, who shook his head.

"I'm not hungry," he replied, pulling his jacket around him despite the mild weather.

"I thought it was your favourite?" Rossi paused as he took one of the coffee cups from Reid.

"Maybe… look, I'm sorry," whispered Reid, momentarily feeling dizzy.

Rossi met his eye. "Spencer, look at me. What the hell is going on?"

"I'm fine." Surely that wasn't too much of a lie; the lightheaded feeling seemed to be passing.

"That's crap and you know it."

"What the hell do you want me to say?" Reid almost spat out the words.

"Tell me the truth," Rossi replied calmly, watching Reid blink rapidly. "This case seems to have hit you harder than it has the others, judging by how short-tempered you've been; plus there was the _food poisoning_ which meant you had to take a commercial flight to join us a day later…"

There was no response.

"It wasn't food poisoning, right?"

Reid wiped his eyes then looked towards the ground, watching grains of sand dance around his feet before being carried away by the light breeze.

"There's nothing we can do to help you, unless you let us in. You can't keep shutting us out like this; we _all _deserve better and that includes you."

"I was around his age," said Reid, nodding in the direction of a small dark haired boy running along the beach in pursuit of a soccer ball.

"What happened?" asked Rossi, sensing Reid was finally going to let the barricades fall.

Reid's attention turned to the white trail made by a departing plane as it crossed the Bay. "I was born on my Uncle Daniel's 25th birthday; he used to joke about me being his reward for making it to a quarter century, said I was the best birthday present a guy could've ever received. He… was my Dad's younger brother, his only brother."

Rossi nodded as he sipped his drink. "You said Daniel _was_ his younger brother."

"He died," replied Reid, his eyes still following the increasingly distant line in the sky as it headed north, probably towards Canada. "Three weeks after my fourth birthday."

"That would have made him twenty nine…" Rossi paused as the ramifications of what Reid had divulged so far now hit home. "You turned twenty nine earlier this month."

Reid nodded, unable to speak due to the fear of finally breaking down.

Rossi briefly placed his hand on Reid's arm. "You can tell me," he said softly, watching the scared younger man compose himself.

"He had gastric cancer, an adenocarcinoma. It was the diffuse type of tumour which has a much worse prognosis than those with the intestinal type and is far more common in younger sufferers. By the time they'd caught it, it had spread. I read there's a seven-fold increase in risk in relatives of patients who have a diffuse tumour."

"Reid, this doesn't mean you'll be affected."

"My paternal grandfather didn't make it to his fortieth birthday," whispered Reid, scrutinising the bitten nails on his right hand.

"Have you had any symptoms?"

Reid looked at Rossi and nodded.

"Is that why you've taken some days off recently?"

"Yeah, but it's because I've been going to the hospital. I had an appointment last week on the day you flew out; I had to get my results, otherwise I was going to lose it."

Rossi took a deep breath. "Did you get the all clear?"

"Yeah," he replied, rubbing his eyes again. "Dave… I'm so sorry I didn't tell you…"

"You're sorry? How are the team going to feel about you going through this alone?"

Reid stared pointedly at Rossi. "You never noticed."

"The hell we didn't notice, maybe we should have said something to you after we'd discussed things with JJ at the birthday meal you _declined_ to attend." Rossi's tone was sharper than he'd intended.

"JJ was there?" Reid's eyes widened.

"Yeah, she's as worried as we are if not more so, especially as she hasn't seen you in over a month."

Reid shook his head. "Shit, I've really messed things up."

"So, what made you think you… could be developing this disease?"

"It's always preyed on my mind, but towards the end of summer I started getting real bad indigestion whenever I ate. Coffee made it worse, more than two cups and I'd be throwing up. When it started getting noticeable at work I didn't know what else to do, so I made myself an appointment with a private oncologist in DC." He stopped and watched the smiling boy pick up the ball before continuing.

"Taking into account my _genetic past,_ as she referred to it, she arranged for me to come in for tests immediately. I'd only had a biopsy the day before you were trying to make me eat Indian food, I couldn't endure another bout of what I went through on the jet after only eating a few mouthfuls at that Mexican place."

Rossi raised his dark brows in lieu of the obvious spoken question.

"Peptic ulcer," Reid clarified. "Late nights, too little sleep, too much caffeine, irregular meals…"

"Hellish cases," continued Rossi, noticing Reid's mouth creep into the faintest smile. "So what's next?

Reid shuddered then stood up and stretched. "If the treatment regimen I'm on doesn't get rid of the ulcer, I may eventually need to have surgery as a last resort. That's why I'm avoiding all the foods I like, and coffee. You know, I can't even take an aspirin for the withdrawal headaches; thankfully they've nearly gone away now."

As the two men reached the SUV Rossi nodded to Reid across its roof. "You do realise what'll happen to you when Garcia finds out?"

Reid's face broke into a full smile for the first time in weeks. "Yeah, she'll probably kill me and then bring me back to life so she can mother me to death…"

**Hmmm, not so sure about the ending, but I felt if I carried on I'd be dragging it out for the sake of it. I'll leave it for you to imagine Garcia's reaction!**

**Thanks once again for reading & reviewing… x x x**


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